Only Our Effort: villanelle

I don’t believe that gods watch us at all,
or bother with our lives in any way;
only our effort makes or breaks our fall.

Perhaps it gives us hope, such folderol,
or cheats fear-mongers of their gruesome play.
I don’t believe that gods watch us at all.

The truth is that no matter who we call,
if answers come, it’s not because we pray.
Only our effort makes or breaks our fall.

We find no mule is kicking in that stall,
just empty promise of reward, someday.
I don’t believe the gods watch us at all.

Some say that god’s an ocean, us, salt dolls;
that finding the divine, we melt away.
Only our effort makes or breaks our fall.

From dust we come, and back to dust we crawl;
there is no proof of any other way.
I don’t believe that gods watch us at all;
only our effort makes or breaks our fall.

07 JUN 2017

Share This:

These Three Things: triad

On these three things the world depends:
life purpose, effort and one’s friends.

The first provides velocity:
forward motion, destiny.
The second supplements one’s sails
when wind and tide desist or fail.

The third reminds us to respect
those in the world whose paths connect
with our own journey, for a while,
and share our sorrows and our smiles.

Without these things, the world is flat;
and our adventure, nothing that
is worth much. Neither time nor health
is substitute for this true wealth.

07 JUN 2017

Share This:

The Use of Dreams: rondine

What is the use of dreams devoid of action,
that linger on as hopes before they die;
and while they last, convince us if we try
that in the end we will find satisfaction.
Such wistful shadows taunt us to distraction;
lost in the mist, we separate in factions
and dissipate and fade out, by and by.
    What is the use?

If dreams and hope are to have any traction,
they must inspire our deeds, not just reactions.
We must find rousing songs, not lullabies,
and exercise our wings if we would fly.
If not, life is continuing subtraction;
    what is the use?

11 MAY 2017

Share This:

A Screen Door of Perception: a cywydd llosgyrnog

Perspective can be a strange thing.
Much like a worm on a string
or wind that sings through the trees,
it twists and turns this way and that
and doesn’t settle or grow fat,
standing pat or as you please.

Don’t try to grasp a hold of it;
you’ll be convinced to up and quit.
You may as well knit warm steam
or reconcile the night and day.
Besides, the tricks the light will play
at their best may be just dreams.

To see a thing for what it is!
To somehow think this some great bliss,
you sadly miss the whole view.
Without the real horizon line
that demarcates yours and mine,
how will you find what is true?

11 DEC 2012

Share This:

On Having an Affect

Sometimes, I wish it took only these words;
like a simple spell cast out in the sky
that turned hard, jagged rocks to gentle birds,
gave the stubborn wingless the will to fly.

But “fish gotta swim, and birds gotta fly”;
reality’s not made just by wishing,
though there are those who think that to just cry
out “catfish” is a method of fishing.

Still, in a way, these words are work enough;
Alone, they move no mountains, as they drip
along the edge where the finish is rough –
but winding their slow way, they too may slip

to the sea, and wear away a whole coast.
Perhaps, by seeming least, they do the most.

14 JUL 2003

Share This:

Repetition

How many times do I need to reach out,
without reaching, into the universe
that waits, patiently, through my doubt
and some overwhelming sense, a perverse

need to communicate? In my weak hands
no infinite secrets are ever revealed,
and the world’s inscrutable veil still stands,
despite how fervently I have appealed.

So what is the point of this mad charade,
that leaves my soul drained and gasping for air,
smothered by the weight of some unseen muse,

and what difference have my words even made?
Have they reached anyone at all out there,
some other seekers willing to share clues?

04 MAR 2003

Share This: